[This is all he wants, feeling Murphy relaxing, that mounting heat. Bellamy trails his lips downward, inch by inch, still taking his time. He releases Murphy's wrists, hands gripping his hips instead, pausing for a moment before unbuttoning Murphy's pants. Bellamy slips his waistband down an inch or two, mouth fitting against the swell of his hipbone. Then he finally peeks up, as though asking permission.]
no subject